


Memory

by Avendya



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-07
Updated: 2008-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avendya/pseuds/Avendya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samson has nothing left, and the Doctor doesn't know who he is. Post-Terror Firma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Gemma... Gemma, I don't know if the Doctor'll be able to get us out of this one. I'm sorry." (Terror Firma)

It was the last time he heard the TARDIS dematerialize.

He leaned into his mother. He didn’t have the strength to stand and, with the Doctor gone, there was no use pretending now.

Gemma was dead. The Earth was held captive. The Doctor had left for Blackpool, too caught up in his own troubles to care about Samson’s. He had his memory back, memory of a boy who’d gone traveling, and a man who’d watched his country fall. He wasn’t sure which one he was.

(He’d thought about asking to travel with the Doctor, just like it had been in the old days. He saw the shadows in the Doctor’s eyes – shadows that hadn’t been there before – and didn’t speak.)

His mother pushed him off. “Oh, come off it,” she said nastily. “You can’t so much as say a word about your sister, and you’re all torn up about some man you’ve barely met?”

The Doctor had explained (of course he had, he always explained, always at 10,000 kilometers an hours), but evidently, she didn’t understand. Some things never changed.

“I’m grieving for – “ he paused for a moment, choking down tears. He hadn’t said her name since she died (hadn’t even known her name since she died). “Gemma,” he said, proud of himself for keeping his voice relatively steady.

“Of course. Now’s the time you pick to cry about your sister, just when you could be useful.” She walked away, leaving him staring at her. Perhaps he’d deserved that – she hadn’t known about the amnesia, or the Doctor, or really, anything, really. (Like how their allies were Daleks.)

With an effort, he kept himself upright. For a moment, he wonders what would have happened if they hadn’t followed the Doctor into the TARDIS. Gemma might be alive. Davros hadn’t been after Gemma, he’d been after the Doctor. It wasn’t the Doctor’s fault, not really.

Suddenly, he felt sorry for all the victims of the alien invasions they’d stopped. He couldn’t keep from crying this time, as he remembered all of people who had been – just like him, really.

He could remember…

***

It was two days, three planets and 1,500 years before the Doctor had a chance to think.

Charley was asleep already, tired from their day out. She doesn’t know what happened on Earth, and what it meant to him. He hoped she never would.

C’rizz was still awake; pacing the TARDIS corridors like a malevolent spirit, unable to calm down. The Doctor knew what his nightmares would be. (The Doctor, too, walked at night.)

C’rizz was in the console room, staring at the central column. He didn’t look at the Doctor as he eased open the doors.

It was bracing outside, a cold wind whipping his coat around. Technically, it’s night, but here, the starlight might as well be sunlight. This close into a nebula, the sky is full of stars and the barren ground is illuminated in a mix of constantly changing colors. There are great clouds of gas, galaxies upon galaxies, stars being born in front of his eyes.

Even that can’t take his mind off what he remembers.

He can see Gemma Griffin’s smile, hoisting a gun she didn’t know how to use, facing down an alien monster for the tenth time that week. He can see her skating on Kurbaal, swearing and laughing at the same time. He can see her falling and Samson pulling her up and both of them falling down again, while he skated circles around them. It felt like a lifetime ago.

(It was a lifetime ago.)

Those images, he could live with, he thinks. It is the things he didn’t see that haunt him – Davros making Gemma into one of his own, the torture that Samson went through, the slow takeover of Earth by the Daleks. There were still gaps in his memory, and if he was going to be honest, he was frightened.

_A man is the sum of his memories, a Time Lord even more so._ He’d said that once, and it was true. He didn’t know what he was the sum of, not anymore.

(For a moment, he wished he wasn’t the Doctor; that he could kill Davros for what he’d done. Then he remembers that there is no longer a Davros to kill.)

There was too much wrong here, too many things taken from him. Gemma and Samson, his memory, his adopted homeworld…

What if there had been others like Gemma and Samson, taken from his life and his mind? He can’t imagine a world without Charley, without Romana or Sarah Jane or Ace or Jo… Their memories are burnt into his mind. (Once, so were Gemma and Samson.)

Earth had been invaded, and he’d been too busy mucking around in another universe to notice. He hadn’t stayed to help, hadn’t freed the Earth for the umpteenth time. For all he knew, the Earth he remembered was no more – just another Dalek outpost.

No, he thought. Samson is there, and Samson will know what to do. Maybe Samson could free the Earth by himself. Maybe he could repel the Daleks. Maybe the Doctor could return and help out yet again.

Maybe he already had.

Maybe.

(He stared up at the stars and waited for dawn.)

***

Samson was risking his life, and he knew it. The Daleks were very clear about how far humans could go, and the hills were not included. He didn’t care.

It had only been a month since the Doctor left, but it felt like years. Gemma’s absence was more than grief – he felt like a part of him had died with her. For the first time in his life, he faced a hostile world alone.

She wouldn’t have let the Daleks take over so easily, he thought. She would have fought tooth and nail, made sure that everyone knew not to let them near. That’s why Davros killed her, he thought. She could have – would have – stopped him.

Instead, it was (it was all) up to him. The rebellion was dead, and the humans still left were paralyzed with fear. They could not fight, when every Dalek they killed might have once been someone they loved.

Samson had no such qualms. The Daleks – and the creator – were monsters, nothing more. The people of Earth had died when they’d been made into aliens.

In a way, Samson was jealous. Everyone knew what had happened to their families, and they could grieve together, cry on each other’s shoulders. He didn’t know what happened to Gemma, and he suspected he never would. Her body was probably still floating around the Nekkistani ship, trapped in the vortex for eternity.

He stopped for a moment and surveyed the landscape. It wasn’t very far now. He scrambled over a pile of rocks, freezing as they tumbled down the hill. If there were Daleks around…

There weren’t. He continued, silently creeping along. The hills looked just the same as they had when he was a child, playing hide and seek. Here, he could barely tell that time had passed, and that an alien force now controlled the world.

Finally, he was there. It was an unremarkable spot, two-thirds up yet another hill. He was the only one left who understood the significance. He was the only one who needed to.

This was the last place Gemma Griffin had stood on Earth, before stepping into the TARDIS and another life.

He didn’t have much to mark the site – a wooden cross, painted white. Awkwardly, he pushed the cross into the ground, trying not to cry. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

He didn’t have a eulogy for her, because there were no words to describe a girl like Gemma, and what he’d meant to him. Just two words, whispered to avoid attracting attention:

I remember.


End file.
